


Like Groceries

by moodyteen



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tags May Change, erejean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-04-21 21:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyteen/pseuds/moodyteen
Summary: "He’s going to murder Connie. He’s going to knock him right upside his dumb, bald, cue ball head and he’ll be completely justified in his actions."Jean and Connie are workout bros and Connie has a lot to say about Jean's drink of choice.





	1. Fucking Springer

**Author's Note:**

> I....do not know what this is I honestly just came up with this as I went along. It took like 4 hours just to do this little bit omg. Erejean will be coming in the next chapter friends.

He’s going to _murder_ Connie. He’s going to knock him right upside his dumb, bald, cue ball head and he’ll be completely justified in his actions.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Jesus, man, every time we come here you’ve got a bottle of Gatorade in your hand.”

 

Jean pulls off his bottle after downing half of it in one go and turns his attention to his friend seated at the leg press.

 

“So, what, we’re in a _gym_. If there was ever a place where you were meant to drink sports drinks it’d be here.”

 

“Yeah, but we’ve been coming here for months and the only drink I’ve ever seen you bring is a Gatorade. You could at least buy a non-shitty sports drink that _does_ something for your body. Then I wouldn’t complain that much,” Connie counters.

 

“You absolutely would.”

 

Jean grabs his towel from his shoulder and wipes at his soaked forehead. He likes the ache he feels in his muscles after a workout. He even likes the way it kinda sorta hurts to walk at a pace any faster than a leisurely stroll after he and Connie finish leg day. The dull throbbing in his body makes him feel accomplished, even if his legs always feel like spaghetti the next morning.

 

Connie leans over the end of the machine, crosses his arms, and tilts his head to the side. He’s got that _annoying ass_ look on his face that he gets whenever he’s about to say-

 

“Ah, I don’t know man.”

 

_God dammit, there it is._

 

“All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t hurt you to drink water sometimes,” Connie says.

 

_What the hell does he think he is, a nutritionist or something?_

 

“I do drink water, I just don’t bring it here. It makes more since to bring a sports drink here than water. Gotta replenish my electrolytes and all that shit. Water doesn’t do that.”

 

“Jean, I honestly don’t think I’ve seen you drink water this entire month. I’ve literally only seen you drink coffee, juice, and Gatorade.”

 

“Are you with me 24/7? For all you know I could be drinking a gallon of water a day.”

 

Connie leans his head to the other side and purses his lips. “Yeah, but…. I know you don’t though.”

 

He’s so tempted to chuck his sweaty towel at his bald ass friend’s head but then that Hawk-eyed guy who walks around and surveys the gym would probably come and scold him. The guy is an entire head and a half shorter than himself but there’s so much muscle packed into that compact body. He’s seen him help the patrons of the gym before, demonstrating how to do a proper push up to the beginners or helping people land a proper punch at the bags. No way in hell would Jean ever cross the guy. He may be on the shorter side, but he is 101% sure that the guy could Stone Cold Stunner him without busting a sweat.

 

He remembers one time when he and Connie had first started coming to the gym. He had made the mistake of throwing Connie’s own empty water bottle at his head after he called Jean a “princess” because he couldn’t handle more than 10 push-ups at a time. It bounced off the rowing machine after boomeranging off Connie’s head. The _crack!_ of the plastic bottle hitting the equipment was unusually loud in the bustling gym. Before he could even move to retrieve the bottle, he heard a voice from across the room that _maaaybe_ made him want to piss himself just a little bit. The guy – Levi, he was called – lectured him on the dangers of throwing things in a place with so much equipment. He had said that there was a chance that the plastic could get stuck in a machine, make it malfunction, and potentially hurt someone. One look at his stormy eyes made Jean obey and apologize immediately. He really wasn’t up for leaving on a stretcher that day.

 

“Welp, considering this is my body, I’m gonna keep drinking this shit for however long I want.”

 

He punctuates his statement with another long drink from his bottle and another swipe of his towel across his still-damp forehead. “Might even bring in some for the both of us later this week,” he says as he settles back down onto his own machine for more leg presses.

 

“Just sayin’ Jeanbo. Water is good for your mind and body. Even helps with acne and all that. Keeps your skin hydrated.”

 

Connie’s shrugging and his head is still tilted and _fuck this guy completely_.

 

Jean pops in his headphones and gets back to his workout while his friend goes on about skin care and why sheet masks are superior to the pull-off ones.

 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Later that day when they’re in Jean’s apartment after working out and their bodies are pleasantly achy, they file into the kitchen together. Jean opens his refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of water. There’s only one Gatorade left on the door of the fridge. _He should really get to the store soon_.

 

He kicks the fridge shut and passes a bottle to Connie before they both walk out into the living room. Connie prepares to sit down but before he can Jean stops him.

 

“Don’t sit your sweaty ass on my furniture.”

 

Connie plops down anyway with a satisfied “Aahhhhh.” He even puts one hand behind his head and goes to open the water with the other one. Then the fucker attempts to kick his feet up on the coffee table but before he can swing his feet halfway up Jean elbows the bastard in the ribs.

 

“OW, dammit, that hurt!” he complains. “You’re sitting on the couch and you’re just as sweaty as me.”

 

“Yes, and this is my couch so its fine if my own sweaty ass is all over it,” Jean argues.

 

Connie sighs dramatically and holds his hands up in surrender.

 

 _I win_.

 

They sit in silence while they drink their water and try not to move their legs that often. Jean feels comfortably warm and exhausted and he goes to run a hand through his damp hair.

 

 _I’m gonna need a trim soon. There’s another thing to add to the to-do list. Oh, also I need to get to the store soon_.

 

Connie’s turned the tv on to one of those National Geographic documentaries about animal sex rituals. He’d rather fucking not learn how two dolphins get it on, but Connie insists they watch because it “reminds him of middle school” or something. So, they sit and watch different animals doing the down and dirty until he starts to drift off. He figures he should shower now so he can immediately go to his room and sleep for a good 24 hours. He tells Connie as such and they both rise off the couch.

 

Jean has bid his friend goodbye and is walking to the bathroom while shucking his clothes off along the way when he hears Connie speak up from the living room.

 

“Hey, uh, Jean? I’m gonna get myself some more water, ok man?”

 

Jean answers from his bathroom, already turning the shower on. “Yeah, go ahead.”

 

He thinks he might hear a hit of laughter in his voice, but he shrugs it off. Connie is a weird guy. A few minutes later when he’s in the shower letting the (scalding hot) water wash off all the grime and sweat he hears Connie’s distant yelling from the front of the house.

 

“Alright Jean, I’m out!”

 

Jean yells his goodbyes over the shower water. He stands under the spray for a few minutes, just letting his muscles relax under the hot water. After a short while, he starts lathering up his bath puff, suds it up, and cleans himself off. Its very satisfying to watch all the built up sweat and dirt from the day roll down the drain. When he feels satisfied with the cleanliness of his body he reaches for his citrus shampoo that he bought at Lush on a trip there with Marco and his cousin Ymir.

 

Honestly, he loves Marco. They’ve been tight since Marco and his family moved in next door to him and his mother nearly 10 years ago. He’s gentle and funny and he’s always there. Like, _always_. You could call the guy at 2 a.m. and he’d answer with a sleepy but concerned, “What’s up? Everything okay?” He’s honestly surprised that there’s never been a time where Marco has just said “Fuck you, its late” and hung up. Jean totally would.

 

Ymir, though. Fucking Ymir. In all honestly Jean doesn’t think she’s so bad. She’s just…a lot.

 

He remembers that time Marco first introduced the two of them back when Jean was 13 years old. Ymir was in town for a family reunion. They were standing in his room Marco had invited him to stay and meet some of his family, but Jean looked outside his bedroom window and saw some of the older women scattered on the Bodt family’s front lawn. A couple of them were pinching the cheeks of Marco’s younger cousins. Some of his family were talking so loudly that Jean was sure he could hear their conversations from his upstairs window. The rest of the family was giving each other very enthusiastic hugs and Jean preferred not to suffocate or have his cheeks pinched right off his face. Then a navy ’98 Oldsmobile pulled up next to the other cars and a bored-looking teenage girl with headphones over her ears and a Pantera t-shirt got out. Marco pointed at her and pulled on Jean’s sleeve, making sure his friend was paying attention.

 

“That’s my big cousin, Ymir. She’s only like a year older but she’s the only cousin have that’s my age. Well, not really but she’s the only one I can really hang out with,” Marco had said. “You should come over and meet her! She’s the coolest cousin I have.”

 

Jean took another look at Marco’s lawn at all the family member scattered down there. He shook his head and told him that he’d decline on both offers. Marco told him that Ymir was going to be staying in town with them for another couple of days after the rest of his family left back home so Jean agreed to meet her then. His friend bid him goodbye and went to join the rest of his family. From his bedroom window, he sat and watched as the poor boy was pulled in every direction, constantly being swapped between different family members. There were hands in his hair and fingers pinching his cheeks and older cousins giving him noogies.

 

_Yep, he’d just wait until everyone else had gone home._

 

Ymir looked a little like Marco and Jean had thought that she would be the sweet, gentle, freckled soul that Marco is. He was so fucking wrong.

 

“Wow, puberty is hitting you like a train, huh? Your face is like one of those bumpy walls in my Aunt Nic’s house. Right, Marco?” she had said.

 

So, the thought that she would be warm and welcoming like Marco flew right out the window after about 5 seconds of conversation.

 

Last Saturday, though, the 3 of them had gone to the mall together. Ymir insisted that they go in Lush and check out the bath bombs and Marco and Jean reluctantly tagged along. Marco could act like he was suffering all he wanted, but the second he walked into the store he was picking up bombs and lotions and shampoos. He had gone back to the front of the store to pick up a little basket and started stocking up on bath bombs and body scrubs. By the time they were all at the checkout counter the cousins looked at him and asked why he wasn’t buying anything. He had tried to argue that he was fine with his regular old 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash but they gave him a look and _Yeah, maybe I should pick something up_. He wound up with a bottle of too-expensive shampoo that smelled like a smoothie and supposedly had lots of vitamins and restoring properties. He can’t say that he hates it though. His hair is soft and shiny as shit.

 

Jean finishes washing his hair and he turns the shower off. He steps out of the shower, grabs a towel in his hand, and goes straight for his room.

 

_Damn its liberating to walk around my own house naked. I could do this more often really. Nah, no thanks. If someone breaks into my house and kills me after I shower I wouldn’t want to be found dead with my entire ass and dick out. Mom would be devastated._

 

He dries off his body then uses the towel to dry his hair as well. He thinks he heard somewhere that you should use separate towels for your head and your body. Oh well. He uses one towel for his hair and his body all the time and his hair isn’t falling out or some crazy shit like that. Jean gets dressed in a soft hoodie and a pair of sweatpants and throws his used towel into the hamper. His shower probably took a lot out of him. He was in there for a while, after all. So long that his fingers are pruned. Jean decided that he should probably go and get that last Gatorade from the fridge. Gotta keep his electrolytes up and all that shit.

 

He opens the fridge and reaches for the drink he knows is there, but he comes up empty. _I know there was another drink in here_. I just saw it. Jean scours his fridge and his freezer before turning around to look at his counter top. Maybe he took it out for some reason? That’s when he sees it.

 

His bottle of Gatorade is on the counter, empty as all hell. There’s a little post-it stuck to the bottle. Jean snatches the bottle up and reads the note.

 

“Now you’ll have to drink water! Love u Jeanbo! -Con”

 

 _Jean is going to beat his fucking ass. He’s going to roundhouse kick his nuts up into his throat_.

 

“That son of a bitch! How dare he?!”

 

Jean is fucking furious. What makes that shit head think that he can come into his home and pour out the drink he spent his hard-earned cash on just because he thinks that Jean should have it?! Oh, Jean is going to commit murder.

 

He stomps to the living room and gets his phone out of his duffle, so he can open up his conversation with the ass wipe.

 

 **Jean to Connie** you rat bastard i am going to murder you _(7:41 p.m.)_

 **Jean to Connie** how dare you I ought to come to your place and shit on everything you love _(7:41 p.m.)_

 **Jean to Connie** that was my last one you fuck _(7:42 p.m.)_

 **Connie to Jean** wow you instead of u this time. ur not text talking I musta pissed u off huh lmao woops _(7:42 p.m.)_

 **Jean to Connie** I am going to cut off all your fingers and toes you ballsack _(7:43 p.m.)_

 

Jean shuts his phone off because if he has to see one more text from Connie he’s going to commit multiple homicides. So much for staying in for the night.

 

“I guess I’m going to the store right fucking now then.” Jean slips on his shoes. He doesn’t feel like socks right now. Fuck socks. He grabs his wallet and his keys and slips out the door to the convenience store a few blocks from his place.

 

“I really fucking hope, for Springer’s sake, that they have Gatorade in at the store.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey uh....here ya go

“Fucking – son of a bitch! – “, Jean swears as he tries to turn the corner but feels himself being pulled back by his right hip. He doesn’t even need to look to know what’s just happened. He looks and, sure enough, his ratty old hoodie that he’s had for years and probably belonged to Marco once upon a time has been snagged on the shitty, broken metal fence. The jacket probably should have been given to a Goodwill a while ago and its got a few small rips already (courtesy of Jean) but _that isn’t the point_. Now, there’s a quarter-sized rip in the right side of his favorite article of clothing and he seriously might cry.

“I swear to God if the landlord isn’t gonna fix this piece of shit excuse for a fence then I’ll tear it down with my bare hands.” He kicks the shitty broken fence for good measure as he walks away.

The only thing that keeps him from imploding on the way to the store is the hope that his friend will be working tonight. He met Armin when they were freshmen in high school. Armin wasn’t completely friend-less but he was smaller than Jean and he had these big, blue baby deer eyes and Jean would have felt bad if he didn’t at least try and talk to him. They’d sit together in bio and when it was time for labs Armin would teach him proper lab safety. In turn, Jean would take him over to his table of friends at lunch, so Armin wouldn’t have to eat alone. They’d all crowd around the table with their lunches and tell stories. Every now and then, Armin would chime in with a story about his two childhood friends and the things they got up to before they moved away the summer before high school started. By their senior year Armin had transformed from a 5’4”, baby faced nerd with an unfortunate haircut to a 5’8”, confident, quite handsome young man. Jean’s pretty damn proud of him.

He rounds the corner on the store and when he looks through the doors he can see a blond head at the register and _thank fucking God_ , Armin is working tonight. Jean walks up to the double doors and pushes them open.

“Good afternoon!”

“Wow, Armin, terrific customer service voice.”

At the sound of his friend’s voice, Armin pops his head up from where it was trained downward at a book on the counter. He looks for confused for half a second but then it falls when he realizes who just walked in. He dog-ears his book and gives Jean a small smile.

“Oh, good, it’s just you. Hey, Jean, what are you doing here?” Armin releases his hair from the bun its in and lets it fall down his back. Jean walks over to the counter and leans against it, reaching over with his left hand to swipe Armin’s book. He can’t even pronounce the title, so he pushes that shit right back to Armin immediately.

“Wow, you don’t sound happy about it being ‘just me’”, Jean teases.

Armin sighs and rolls his eyes, but he smiles a little bigger this time.

“Always happy to see you, Jean. What’s up?”

“My friend is an asshole, that’s what’s up.”

Armin closes his eyes as if he’s in deep thought. “An asshole? It was probably Sasha, Ymir, or Connie then, right?”

“You know it was Connie. And, by the way, all of you are assholes.” Armin hums and nods his head, satisfied. _He loves being right_.

“What did he do this time?” Armin leans across the counter with his head in his hands, fully prepared to listen to Jean recount that afternoon’s accounts.

“So, you know how me and Connie work out together? We’re in the gym and he’s telling me how I drink too much Gatorade and I should drink more water and all that stuff. So, of course I tell him to fuck off. Later, we get to my house and I get some water for us and I clearly see that there’s an entire Gatorade left in the refrigerator.”

At this point, Armin is already holding back laughter for what he knows is going to be a great ending to this tale, if Jean’s obvious frustration is anything to go buy.

“After that,” Jean continues, “we watch tv for a while then I go to take a shower. I hear him say he’s gonna get a drink and I swear to God I could hear him plotting. Anyway, he gets the drink and leaves and I come out the shower and go to the kitchen to get a drink. But guess what, Armin?”

Armin has a hand help up to his mouth and his shoulders are shaking a little with the laughter he’s failing to hold in. _Blond bastard_.

“What’s – what’s that, Jean?” “I can’t fucking find it. So, I’m like ‘Am I going crazy? I know there was a drink in here.’ I turn the fuck around and there’s an empty bottle sitting on my counter with a note taped to it. He poured my drink down my own fucking sink!”

Armin’s laughter leaves him in an odd cackle at first, then he’s reduced to counter-smacking giggles. His eyes are watering and he’s turning red and honestly _fuck Armin._

“Glad you’re having a good time,” Jean mumbles as Armin loses it.

“What did the note say?” Armin manages through wheezes of breath. Jean puts on his best Connie Voice™ for his impression of the bald idiot.

“’Now you’ll have to drink water! Love you Jean boy!’” Armin lets out another hideous cackle and he doubles over this time. Jean is debating smacking him with his own book.

“Jean, no, he didn’t call you that!”

“He fucking did and I’m going to murder him.”

“Armin, you ok?” A third voice that doesn’t belong to him or Armin sounds from one of the back rooms behind the counter and Jean is ready to bolt until he gets a look at who walks out and– oh fuck. The guy emerges from the back room to stand next to Armin and he’s an _entire head taller than Armin, holy shit_. He’s all tan skin and long brunette hair in a bun pulled tight at the back of his head, bangs flying all over his forehead. He’s all pink lips and strong eyebrows and vibrant green eyes and _oh shit, he’s looking right at me say something you ass._

Armin comes out of his laughing fit to cast a glance behind him. “Oh, Eren! Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Um, Eren, this is my friend Jean. We met in high school. Jean, this is my best friend, Eren Jaeger. I’ve told you tons about him.”

Oh, _this_ is Eren. One of the kids Armin would talk about all the time. He never mentioned his best friend was a fucking pipe bomb of a man. Eren turns his attention to Jean and a small, closed mouth smile pulls at his mouth. Jean needs to swallow, or his throat might close permanently.

“Oh, _you're_  Jean? I’ve heard about you. Armin would call me and tell me about this guy who would let him sit with his friends at lunch but didn’t know how to put on a pair of lab goggles.”

“Eren!” Armin wails and slaps his arm. Ok, so, this Eren is a shit talker. Jean likes this.

“Anyway, Eren is back in town for the summer and he’s helping out here and the store while he’s here,” Armin says.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around a bit then, huh?” Eren says to Jean.

“Yeah, I uh, guess so. Welcome to the neighborhood?” Eren smirks a little at Jean’s awkwardness and Jean briefly wonders if he begs God hard enough, the floor would open and swallow him whole.

“Was that a question?” Eren asks, leaning against the counter now.

“No, uh, it wasn’t. Welcome to the neighborhood, Eren.” Eren’s smirk gets bigger and he’s tilting his head and extending his hand. Jean quickly wipes his own on his hoodie.

“Well, thank you Jean. Anything I can help you find?”

Armin pipes up from Eren’s right side. “He was looking for Gatorade, Eren.” He sends Jean one of those special, Armin, “ _I-know-exactly-what’s-going-on-here_ ” looks. How dare he insinuate Jean is interested in his tall, pretty, best friend.

Eren slides out from behind the counter and comes to stand next to Jean. Looking at him now, he isn’t much taller than Jean. He’s sure they’re probably the same height. Jean actually might be just a _smidge_ taller but-

“Ready?”

“Shit – uh yeah I’m good.” Smooth.

Eren walks ahead of him and Jean… really tries not to look at the guy’s backside but it’d be even weirder if he just stared straight at the back of his head. His eyes trail downward and Jean’s eyes widen before he reminds himself to not be a creep in the middle of the convenience store. A broad back flows down into narrow hips and an _unreal_ ass. Thick thighs framed by tight, white pants and long, long legs that go on for miles. It really isn’t fair.

“So, here are all the Gatorades,” Eren announces when they get to the aisle. He really could have found them on his own considering how often he comes here but Eren doesn’t need to know that.

“Thanks, man,” Jean says as he starts picking his drinks. He expects Eren to leave but he leans against the shelves and starts talking. He’s got a hip popped out and Jean isn’t prepared for this today.

“So, you’ve known Armin for a while, huh?”

“Yeah, a few years now. We met in high school.” Eren leans in a little closer and Jean isn’t so sure what’s happening anymore.

“Thank you for being a friend to him. I remember him calling and telling me about some guy with a super hard last name who invited him to sit with his friends at lunchtime, so he wouldn’t be alone. My sister and I couldn’t be there to keep him company, but I’m glad someone did,” he finishes with a blinding smile. He’s really going to have to stop that or Jean might drop all his drinks.

“His name isn’t any easier than mine. I’m sure I called him ‘Armin Alert’ for a good few months,” Jean responds. Eren pushes his bangs out of his face with a small smile and a sigh.

“Regardless of what last name you gave him, he was really grateful for you.” Okay, Jean’s heart warms a bit at that. He’ll have to give Armin a hug soon.

“Yeah, well it was nothing. He’s a really good friend.”

“He’s the best friend,” Eren corrects. At some point Jean has stopped looking at drinks.

“Won’t he be a little peeved if he finds his friends are gossiping about him in the back of the store?” Jean asks.

“Will he ever find out?” Eren answers. Point taken.

“Well, Jean, a friend of Armin’s is a friend of mine. He told me there’s a few other people I have to meet though.”

“I feel bad for you. They’re all assholes.” Eren throws his head back in laughter and Jean swears to God he isn’t in love already.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad. I mean, you’re all friends after all. And if they’re anything like you, I’m sure I won’t mind meeting them.” Jean really does drop a drink then.

“Yeah, well, you won’t say that once you spend a day with all ten of us,” Jean says as he picks up the fallen Gatorade.

“I’m looking forward to it actually,” Eren tucks a piece of hair behind his head and juts his hip out a little more. Jean isn’t a genius, but he knows flirting when he sees it. Eren is honest to God flirting with him. His heart gives out just a little.

“I really hope to see you at our next hangout, then, _Eren_.”

Eren brushes up against Jean just a little as he walks away. He leans down a bit. “Maybe you will, Jean.”

 

 

Jean drops all his drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't updated in so long wow. in my defense i made it known that i didn't know when this would be updated or what direction it was going in and i still don't so. there's that. enjoy? enjoy. thank you for the sweet comments last chapter. i really enjoy reading those. they feed my ego. 
> 
> (just joking)
> 
> (no i'm not)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is. Sigh.


End file.
